


It takes two

by Angel1622



Category: One Piece
Genre: Battlefield, Canon Compliant, Exhaustion, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nakamaship, Roronoa Zoro and Vinsmoke Sanji Bickering, Trust, Zoro just gets one hella high whenever he draws a sword lets face it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel1622/pseuds/Angel1622
Summary: “Had your fun, mosshead?” The cook asks between pants. Zoro cracks an eye open and watches the dartbrow slowly reach for a cigarette and light it up. “It surely looked like you’ve enjoyed yourself. Sliced enough thugs to take care of your twisted battle libido?”“One… hundred.” The swordsman spits out, smirking at the guy. “One hundred and twenty two.”“That figures.” Sanji blows out a cloud of smoke, cocking a curly eyebrow. “Of course you wouldn’t compare tomyone hundred andtwenty three.”Zoro and Sanji recovering after a battle.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	It takes two

**Author's Note:**

> I've really hit some good old nostalgic pre-timeskip vibes with those two today. Hope you enjoy it! Have a good time!

There’s nothing to break the silence that fell upon the battlefield safe for their deep, loud breaths.

Zoro lazily turns his head to the man leaning on the remnants of a wall, and tries to force his hand to place Wado back in its sheath. After a few seconds, though, he resigns, because lying motionlessly on the ground feels _so fucking good_ and every sharp inhale of cool air is the tastiest breath he’s ever taken.

He loses track of time, closing his eyes and focusing on the steady rhythm his chest rises and falls in. Every single muscle of his body aches and screams from extortion, his guts welling up and urging to get out through his throat, but he almost laughs at the sensation.

He’s _never_ felt more alive than now. Droplets of sweat run down his temples and back, soaking into the ground. The smell of sweat, steel and blood is overwhelming, but for the swordsman, it’s almost _pleasant._ He doesn’t even mind it. A smirk comes up onto his face.

“Had your fun, mosshead?” The cook asks between pants. Zoro cracks an eye open and watches the dartbrow slowly reach for a cigarette and light it up. “It surely looked like you’ve enjoyed yourself. Sliced enough thugs to take care of your twisted battle libido?”

“One… hundred.” The swordsman spits out, smirking at the guy. “One hundred and twenty two.”

“That figures.” Sanji blows out a cloud of smoke, cocking a curly eyebrow. “Of course you wouldn’t compare to _my_ one hundred and _twenty three_.”

The swordsman rolls his eyes. _Yes,_ they're having that talk again. Also, _yes_ , it's impressive the guy still has the nerve to talk all high and mighty.

“You can always dream, shitty cook.” Zoro barks out a laugh, staring into the clear sky for a moment and feeling the adrenaline slowly drain from his body, letting all the pain and exhaustion in. He doesn’t give a shit about it, though. It only makes him feel more alive. “I saw at least five of your guys get up after a few minutes. Had to finish them off myself.”

“Seems like you’re seeing double from blood loss, idiot.” The other Strawhat says with pity, narrowing his eyes. “I surely hope you _didn’t_ count those two ships _I_ personally kicked cannonballs into.”

“Oh, you mean the ones I cut in half?”

“No, idiot. The ones that weren’t the result of your drunk hallucinations.”

Zoro smirks at that, cocking an eyebrow.

“Fair enough.” He says, fingers clenching around the hilt of Wado and this time successfully sheathing it. “Still, have you seen that giant guy I knocked out? He has to count double.”

“Uh-huh, you wish.” The cook retorts, clicking his tongue. “If we’re counting bigger opponents, I’m beating you by a fucking landslide.”

“Yeah, sure.” The swordsman bares his teeth, shooting his crewmate a mischievous look. “After all, everyone seems bigger when you’re so short.”

“It’s _half an inch_ , moss-for-brains.” Sanji's brow twitches. “Given that I crook, of course.”

“Oh, without a doubt. More like _half a foot_ , if you ask me."

"Can't quite remember _ever_ doing that."

A moment of silence passes before Zoro notices the corners of the cook’s mouth finally go up. He himself keeps grinning, the blood running through his veins pumping oxygen into the shaky muscles and worn out organs. Kitetsu hangs limply by his side, sweetly singing after having been given the blood it craved, slowly rocking itself to sleep.

The swordsman’s eyes wander around the demolished wall that the cook’s leaning his back on, to the countless bodies around and behind it, and for a moment he _does_ try to count which ones were sliced in half and which earned a solid kick to the guts. After a moment, though, he gives it up. _Of course_ , the shitty dartbrow couldn’t have possibly taken down more men than him. The thought alone seems ridiculous.

He thinks those guys were Marines. No, seriously, Zoro _isn’t sure,_ but _thinks_ those guys were from the Navy. It doesn’t really matter to him, though. All that mattered was that they attacked Merry from surprise. The swordsman didn’t need any more reasons.

It’s not like people call him _the Pirate Hunter_ for nothing.

“I also took out the vice-captain.” He notices after a moment, and holds back the victorious smirk when Sanji snorts in annoyance. “Left all the shrimps to you.”

“Sure, especially the one that almost packed a bullet into the remnants of your brain cells.” The cook takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “That one looked like the shrimpest of them all.”

“Can’t really remember that one.” The swordsman huffs, shrugging.

It’s a blatant lie. His body still remembers the adrenaline rush he felt when the pistol aimed at him clicked. As well as the feeling of the cook’s back pressed against his own in the middle of the battle as they both stopped to catch a breath. Mere seconds that separated them from diving into the chaos once again. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t remember a bullet flying through your skull.” Sanji rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t catch that quick _holy shit, Sanji, thanks for saving my ass_.”

“Well, you surely caught the _get out of my way, asshole._ ” Zoro exchanges looks with the man, sparks flying between them as they turn the glance into yet another of their fights. “But you weren’t half-bad at cleaning up the weaklings.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who can’t even stand after taking down one hundred twenty _two_ no-name Marines.” The cook muses, stressing the _two_ as though saying it out loud gives him pleasure. “I expected more from the infamous Roronoa. Well, reality sucks sometimes.”

“I can stand just fine, bastard.” The swordsman says, exhaling loudly. “I’m just giving you a minute head start. Can’t go any more easy on you.”

“Really?” A curly eyebrow goes up. “I thought it was _me_ sitting and waiting for _you_ to get your ass up the whole time. After all, I’m not the one lying in dirt with an idiotic grin plastered to my face. Hurry up, though. I only have thirty seconds of patience until I go look for Nami and the others.”

“You meant the victorious smirk on my face after having beaten you once again?” Zoro asks. “All right, ten seconds buffer. Starting _now._ ”

“You surely think highly of yourself. I could get up any moment now and leave your directionless pile of moss here to get lost.”

“Is that so?” The swordsman cocks an eyebrow. “Try me, then.”

“Fine. You asked for it yourself, shitty mosshead.”

Zoro can’t remember the last time getting on his feet was so goddamn difficult. He barely has it in him to get on one knee, much less actually _stand_ on legs shaky from extortion. But one look at the cook, supporting himself with the wall, is enough to actually make him straighten his knees and let out a long sigh.

As soon as he does, the world starts spinning. The swordsman blinks a couple of times, waiting for the sensation to fade away, and gives his crewmate a quick look. Sanji is standing right next to him, with one hand holding a half-burnt cigarette and the other resting casually in his pocket. There’s a long, nasty gash running through his side, and a noticeable stain of blood on the wall he’s been leaning on the whole time.

Apart from that, and some minor bruises and scratches, the bastards seems as fit as a fucking fiddle. And they’ve just taken down a _whole_ fleet. _What the hell_.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Sanji snorts, lazily blowing out a cloud of smoke, a blue eye turning to the swordsman. “So, we’re going back or do you need a minute for yourself?”

“You wish, cook.” Zoro smirks, resting one of his hands on his katanas’ sheaths and taking an uncertain step in his crewmate’s direction. He doesn’t fail to notice the cocky smile that comes on the bastard’s lips as he notices the effort.

It’s not like he looks any better. The swordsman clearly sees the way the cook prefers his left side when walking, and how they both slowly sway in the direction of Luffy’s voice. It’s no longer a battle between the Marines and them, it’s now become a personal duel, and Zoro had no intention of backing off from a challenge.

To his utter, dumb look, the cook is just exactly the same type of person.

* * *

Sanji _doesn’t_ believe he actually let himself be talked into joining such an abstract pirate crew. Really, he’d be willing to believe Zeff actually spiked one of his drinks to force him out of the Baratie if he didn’t know the old man so well.

Roronoa Zoro. Roronoa _fucking_ Zoro, a part of this group of weirdos, has just taken down more than a hundred men, and his first reaction after collapsing from exhaustion was a goddamn _chuckle_. He even had the guts to spread his arms, close his eyes and lay there like he was dead!

What if someone, _anyone_ , some no-name, private Marine, who both of them miraculously failed to notice, decided to use this moment and, who knows, kill the mosshead? The guy wouldn’t even bother, that was how simple his mind was. Either sleeping, training or slicing. It’s driving the cook crazy, he hates that cockiness, that self-confidence, that ignorance.

But most of all, he hates the brute force combined with no sympathy or mercy. The swordsman he sees every time they enter the battlefield together.

Watching Zoro as he fights, he sees nothing but a machine. A person who not only takes pride, but also _enjoys_ killing other people. Living, normal people! Just how twisted is _that_ ? Deep inside he knows precisely _why_ it triggers him so much. Looking at the mosshead moving around the alive and dead, he sees the version of himself the Vinsmokes would like to see.

To the cook’s dumb luck, the infamous _Bounty Hunter_ is nothing like his so-called family. He’s like a Vinsmoke, but with actual heart and emotions and Sanji can’t help but _envy_ the guy every time he thinks that if only, by some accident, it was Zoro who was born in Germa 66, he wouldn’t go through the hell the cook did only because he felt emotions.

Or, to be more precise, the swordsman wouldn’t be _the disappointment, the weakling, the failure, the sole blemish of his father’s life_ only because he felt what every other human did. It unnerves him because on one hand, Zoro represents _everything_ Sanji’s ideals go against, but apparently the guy had no problem with betting his life on Nami after only knowing her for a week or two. _What the fuck?_

The cook’s not even going to mention the fight with Mihawk. No, seriously, he’s _not_ going to mention it. He’s afraid that if his body caught up with his brain, he might’ve done something he’d later regret.

Putting aside how ridiculous the guy is, Sanji knows, somewhere very, _very_ deep inside, that he’d put his life on the line for that arrogant, cocky, brutal swordsman. He knows Zoro doesn’t really take pleasure in destruction and death, that he’s _not_ one of the Vinsmokes, and for fuck’s sake, that if there’s anyone he’d choose to fight arm-to-arm, it’s that very directionless bastard.

Thing is, he’d rather drown than feed the mosshead’s already overgrown ego with all of this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sparing a minute to read it! Have a great day (or night, wherever you are and whenever you're reading this)!


End file.
